Lady Folbroke's Delicious Deception Read online

  Adrian gave a small laugh, and for a moment she was sure that he would tell her in no uncertain terms that their short acquaintance gave her no right to dictate terms to him. And then he said, ‘Well played, madam. In three days, you have succeeded in doing what my friends and family have attempted for years. Of course, they might have had more success in reforming me had they the bait you offer. If you wish me to, I will leave off my vices, for a time, in exchange for the pleasure of your company.’

  ‘And there must be no more talk of seeking an end to your life or dying young by misadventure. You must assure me that whatever happens between us, you will die in bed, at an advanced age.’

  ‘I can hardly be expected to guarantee my own longevity.’

  ‘But you can safeguard what time you have for my sake.’ She ran a finger along his chest before buttoning his vest over it. ‘I will brook no talk of doom, nor do I wish you threatening to step in front of a dray horse, should I do something that displeases you.’ She kissed his chin, nestling her naked body against him and feeling his spirit weaken as his body grew hard.

  He groaned and pushed her away, firmly back on her own two feet. ‘None of that, then. If I mean to leave you, I will not be able, should you begin again.’

  ‘I will not let you go until you promise. I could not bear it, I swear.’

  He leaned against a bedpost, grunting as he pulled on his boots. But he was smiling. ‘Very well. To remain secure in your affections, I will do as you ask. Now tell me where to find a bell pull so that I might summon a ride home.’

  When she offered to help him, he kissed her firmly on the lips, leading her back to the bed. ‘You need not rise. I will find my own way, with some small amount of help. And I dare say your servants must grow used to it. I expect they will see me often from now on.’

  Adrian reached his own doorstep without a stumble, handing his coat and stick to a waiting footman.

  This morning, it was almost a relief to be unable to read the expression on the man’s face. If he could see, he was sure that he would find the servant smirking at the master for coming in with the dawn with a smile on his face and smelling of a woman’s cologne.

  He inhaled deeply. Lemons, again. His mouth watered at the thought of her. Or perhaps it was because he had barely eaten. He would have a wash, a shave and a hearty breakfast.

  Adrian went to his room and pulled back the curtains, seeing the glow of the rising sun, and felt the first warmth hit his face as his valet came to prepare him for the day.

  When Hendricks came to him, several hours later, he swore he could hear the man’s shocked intake of breath at finding him upright and taking eggs and kippers at the little table beside the window.

  ‘Come in, Hendricks.’ He made a welcoming gesture in the general direction of the door and indicated the chair on the other side of the table. ‘Bring the post and The Times and help yourself to a cup of tea. And try to contain your astonishment. I swear, I heard your jaw drop as you crossed the threshold.’

  ‘You must admit that it is unusual for me to find you awake, my lord.’

  ‘I am sober as well. And fully dressed. Of course, what I mean to do with all the extra time, I have no idea. I suspect I have put my valet to a great deal of bother, only to spoil my cravat by napping through the afternoon. But what can be done?’

  ‘You are in a better mood today, I see.’ His secretary was using his typically mild-mannered voice, but there was a hint of something in it that almost seemed like censure.

  ‘And what if I am?’

  ‘It is rare enough to be worthy of comment. The last time I greeted you cheerfully before noon, you threw a bookend at me.’

  ‘I apologise.’ He had been suffering that day from the headache that sometimes accompanied his troubles. Or, if he was more honest with himself, he had been suffering the after-effects of the gin. In either case, it had been no reason to take it out on Hendricks. ‘If you felt then as I do today, then I had no right to spoil the mood.’ He reached for his tea, and felt Hendricks stay his hand.

  ‘Excuse me, my lord. It has been incorrectly prepared for you. Someone has put lemon in it this morning.’

  Adrian grinned. ‘And two sugars. Tart, and yet very sweet. Just as I requested it. Never mind the post. I doubt there is anything in it that I care about. But if you could read me the news of the day, I would be most grateful.’

  Chapter Eleven

  The vigour with which Adrian had started the day had faded by noon. He might have stood the fatigue if there had been a way to occupy himself. But with no word from Emily or his mysterious new lover, there was nothing in the mail that required his attention. And although the news was interesting, it gave him the familiar feeling of restlessness to hear it. If he refused his chance to be involved with the making of laws, he had no real need to keep abreast of current events. He soon grew frustrated with the paper and waved his secretary away.

  When Hendricks was gone, Adrian roamed his small rooms like a lost soul. He requested an early lunch, which he promptly regretted, for the food lay heavy in his stomach. Then he went back to his bedchamber, and lay down upon the bed, closing his eyes and falling into an uneasy doze.

  He dreamed of her, of course. And in those dreams, he could see her and call her by name. When they had lain together, near exhausted from love-making, he had asked her what she wished to be called, if she would not give him her name.

  She had laughed and said, ‘Anything you like. Or nothing at all. While I appreciate endearments, I have learned to live without them.’

  And it had angered him. For while some women could turn petulant if not given jewels, the woman at his side deserved to be showered with words of love, and yet had been forced to manage with none.

  But then she had said, ‘But I do seem to enjoy attention that is physical in nature.’

  ‘Do you, now?’ He laughed again and moved to touch her, eager to give her what she hinted at. And a name for her had popped easily into his mind. He pushed it away, remembering that though he might imagine what he liked as they made love, he must guard his tongue. She knew too much already about his life and marriage to call her by the name that was always close to his thoughts. It would be an insult to what they shared.

  But in his sleep he was loving a woman that was a perfect blend of what he had and what he wanted. Though it should have been the happiest of dreams, and one that he wanted never to end, he could not shake the feeling that the happiness would not last.

  And then, at the penultimate moment of his fantasy, there was the sound of something heavy moving in the hall. And of men, grunting under the weight of it, and muffled curses as someone banged an arm or pinched a finger.

  Adrian rose and stalked across his room, opening the door with such force that it would have slammed against the wall had it not met with an obstruction. ‘What the devil is going on out here? Do you not realise that I am trying to sleep?’

  ‘My lord, if you will excuse us, there is a delivery.’ They were trying to manoeuvre something past him, towards the sitting room. ‘We were instructed to place it in the corner, by the window.’

  ‘Not by me you weren’t,’ he said, and heard the footman take an involuntary step back and the burden bumping against the walls in a way that must have scratched the paper from them.

  ‘It is from … She said you would not mind.’ There was a tiny stammer at the beginning of the sentence, as though they were unsure how to broach the rest of it.

  ‘She?’ There could be only one she that would be so motivated. Whatever it was was probably offered as a ‘thank you’ for their extremely active night. He should accept it in the spirit it was given, no matter what it might be. ‘Well, if she insists that it must go in my sitting room, who am I to argue?’ Other than the owner of the room, of course.

  ‘Very good, my lord. If you would stand back, just for a moment?’ From the sound of his voice, Parker, the footman, was fading under the weight of the thing he carried, but made no m
ove to proceed without his master’s permission. The man had made the mistake, when first he’d arrived, of trying to touch Adrian and move him manually out of the way of a delivery. But he had learned with the sharp rap of a cane on his knuckles to keep his distance and allow my lord his space.

  Adrian raised his hands and stepped back to give them room to pass.

  There was more grunting, and the sound of the two footmen manoeuvring a piece of furniture, followed by the instructions to a third man to ‘Get the stool as well’.

  When things settled down, Adrian folded his arms and demanded, ‘What is it?’

  ‘A pianoforte, my lord.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A pianoforte. She said that we might have some difficulty with it, but that it was the smallest one she could find.’

  Adrian waved his hands as they began to repeat. ‘Never mind. I heard you the first time. But what the hell am I supposed to do with the thing? The woman must be mad—take it away, immediately.’

  ‘There is a message, my lord.’ Hendricks spoke from the doorway, for doubtless there was little space left in the room for him.

  ‘Really. Well, then? Speak.’

  ‘She said you would likely object to it. And to inform you, when you did, that you needed something to occupy your days, since idle hands are the Devil’s tools.’ Hendricks sounded faintly amused, as he could afford to do, being well out of reach of my lord’s cane.

  Adrian glared into the sitting room, then followed in the wake of the servants and the unwanted gift. His lady had been happy enough with the Devil’s tools when he’d left her. Perhaps she was afraid that he would use them on another, if she did not fill every minute of his life. ‘And I suppose, if I send it away …’

  ‘The note says she will find something larger, since simple presents do not seem to entertain you.’

  He imagined her voice, framing those words with a hint of disapproval. ‘If her man is still waiting, tell him that I will be by this evening to deliver my thanks in person. I would go now, but there is a large piece of furniture blocking my way to the door.’

  ‘Very good, my lord.’

  The men cleared away, leaving him alone with his present. And it was as though he could sense the interloper in the room, without even approaching it. He could feel the faint vibrations of the strings inside, for they still hummed with the recent disturbance.

  He walked towards it, bumping into the corner and hearing the hollow rap of his cane against its body, running his hand along the side and hoping that she had not wasted money on some gold, heavily ornamented monster of an instrument. It felt simple enough. Rectangular, and with the slightly sticky feel of varnish rather than paint.

  So she thought he should keep busy. Clearly, she did not understand what it meant to be a gentleman. His status in society removed the whole point of an occupation. He was not supposed to make work for himself. And many of the things that might have kept him entertained were quite lost to him, now that his eyes were gone. Even gaming had lost its lure. He could no longer read the cards without help, and his need to touch the face of the dice, to feel the spots and assure himself of the roll, was often taken as cheating by his opponents.

  He sat down on the bench and laid his hands on the ivory keys, depressing one to hear the tone of it, and depressing his spirit as well. It would need continual tuning, of course. These things always did. But was he expected to know by listening whether it was right or wrong?

  He walked his fingers up a scale and sighed, already bored with it in a few short notes. He laboriously picked out a folksong, and then a familiar hymn. The tunes were thin, and he was sure that a talented musician would be searching for seconds and thirds, and chords, finding harmonious combinations by trial and error.

  What had he taken from the few music lessons of his youth? Damn little. While his mother had thought it a good idea to give him some understanding of the arts, his father had thought it a waste of time. The clock on the mantel chimed a quarter past the hour. It was just as it had been when he was a boy. He had been sitting at the instrument for only a few moments, and already he was stiff, bored and aching to leave it behind.

  ‘A visitor to see you, my lord.’ Abbott had entered with the announcement, and Adrian looked up with eagerness, forgetting for a moment that he had not accepted a guest in months as his condition had deteriorated.

  ‘Mr Eston.’

  ‘Damn and hell.’ Emily’s brother, and the last man on the planet he wished to see. ‘Put him off. Any excuse you like, I do not care.’

  ‘He will not be denied. He says that he means to wait in the entry until he meets with you, either coming or going.’

  It sounded very like his old friend David, who in comparison to Adrian had both the patience and morals of a saint. ‘Give me a moment, and then show him in.’

  When he heard the door close, he hurried across the room to the brandy decanter, filling a glass with such speed that he spilled some on his sleeve. Even better. The smell of the liquor burned in his nostrils, making an attempt at the appearance of drunkenness more obvious. For good measure he dipped his fingers into the glass and sprinkled more of it onto his coat then took a mouthful and swished it about a bit before swallowing. Then he went back to sprawl in a chair by the fireplace with the decanter in one hand and the half-empty glass in the other, barking his shin against the piano bench on the way, then sitting down again just as the door opened.

  He looked up as though the hulking shadow in the doorway seemed the least bit familiar, and raised his glass in salute. ‘David, it has been so long.’

  ‘Over a year,’ his brother-in-law grunted at him.

  ‘And what brings you to London?’

  ‘I have come to fetch you home.’

  ‘Why, my dear sir, I am home.’ He waved the glass to encompass the room, spilling more of the contents in the process. ‘Please, avail yourself of my hospitality. A drink, perhaps?’

  ‘It is just gone noon, Adrian,’ David said with disgust. ‘Far too early for brandy.’

  ‘But this is a special occasion, is it not? We have established that you do not visit often. To see you now is a cause for celebration.’ To see him at all would be more of a miracle. But for now, his unfocused gaze and unwillingness to meet his friend’s eye would be blamed on a guilty nature and the glass in his hand.

  Eston grunted again, and he did not need eyes to guess the expression of distaste on the man’s face. ‘You celebrate too often, as it is.’

  ‘There is much reason to make merry, for London is a fine town.’

  ‘But not so fine that you would bring my sister to it.’

  ‘I did not think she would enjoy it. You said often enough, before we married, that she was a simple girl.’

  ‘She is a woman, now. And she is here in town.’ David paused to give significance to the next words. ‘But she is not staying with me.’

  Adrian gave an uneasy laugh. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘She has taken rooms, and refuses to tell me where. I assume that she is using them to receive someone that she does not want me to meet.’

  ‘I do not mind her coming to town. Nor have I forbidden her from socialising. There is money enough to take lodgings of her own, should she choose to. And there is hardly space enough here, should she want to come to me.’

  ‘If there is money enough to maintain two residences,’ David said with irritation, ‘then there is also money enough to get a town house large enough to share.’

  ‘But would that allow her the privacy she seeks?’ Adrian said with mock innocence.

  David made a noise of exasperation. ‘Why should it matter to you? She is your wife and should not require more privacy than you wish to give her.’

  Adrian took a swig of his brandy, and waved his other hand, as if the concept were too much for his addled brain. ‘Well then, we are in agreement. I wish to allow her as much privacy as she wants, and to allow myself the same.’

  ‘So it does not bother y
ou that she has taken a lover?’

  There would be no way of avoiding the truth if David insisted on sharing it with him. Adrian poured himself another brandy and drank deep, pretending that he cared for nothing but the spirit, ignoring the tightening in his guts. ‘And who might that be?’

  ‘I do not know his name,’ David said. ‘But I ran into her today, shopping on Bond Street. And it was obvious what she has been doing with the days she has been absent from my lodging. She positively glowed.’

  ‘I am encouraged by her continued good health,’ Adrian said absently, feeling both relieved and discouraged by the sketchy information.

  ‘It is not health I am referring to, you drunken ninny,’ David snapped back, all patience gone. ‘I have never seen my sister looking thus. She has been with a man.’

  Adrian sipped his drink, looking down into it as though he could see it. ‘And I have been with a woman. I can hardly blame her, David. You know we are estranged.’

  ‘But I do not know the reason for the separation.’

  He took another drink from his glass. ‘Perhaps not. But it is no business of yours. It is a matter between my wife and myself.’

  ‘And now it is a matter between you and me. You have made no effort to be a husband to her, and now she is likely to shame herself and you with a public affair.’

  ‘With my blessing,’ Adrian said, gritting his teeth.

  David swore. And then the shifting shadows seemed to indicate him stepping closer, towering over Adrian as he sat by the fire. ‘You have been with Emily for three years, and it is clear that you do not mean to get her with child or show her even the slightest modicum of respect. If she looks elsewhere for affection, it is quite possible that your heir will be illegitimate, and then all will know you for a fool, and my sister for a whore.’

  Adrian stared into the faint orange glow that marked the ashes from the previous night’s fire. ‘I think there is little doubt already that I am a fool. And as for her reputation?’ He shrugged. ‘She is my wife. Any child of hers will be my heir, no matter who his father might be.’